How to Save a Life
by msmortmain
Summary: Sometimes you have to accept that you've chosen your path, and he's chosen his. A oneshot describing the breakdown of Lily and Snape's relationship, inspired by song lyrics. Please review.


**Author's Note: Hey. ) For a while now I've thought that the song 'How to Save a Life' by The Fray is a really perfect one to describe the breakdown of Lily and Snape's relationship. I'm more of a Lily/James shipper than a Lily/Snape one, but I wanted to capture the moment when Lily chose between them and pretty much determined the future of the wizarding world. When I listened to the song, I imagined the story as a film montage with the music in the background, but obviously I don't have the footage to create that. So one evening, when I was bored, I decided the second best thing to do was to put it in a piece of writing. Hope you like it, and feel free to leave criticism in reviews.**

**Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own any of the characters mentioned, or anything to do with the Harry Potter universe. Also, lyrics are all from 'How to Save a Life' by the Fray.**

* * *

"Sev, we need to talk."

You look at him, your green eyes holding his gaze firmly; you watch the way his posture stiffens and his shoulders hunch even more than usual, the way his pale skin seems to tighten over his face as if he knows what's coming. There is a beat of silence, and then he rearranges his features into a nonchalant grin.

"Talk away," he replies, tearing his obsidian eyes away from yours. He starts to walk in that jerky manner of his you know so well, hands fisted in the pockets of his robes. You reach out a hand and place it on his upper arm to stop him in his tracks, and look at him in a sort of weary, knowing manner. You have both been through this before - you know just how it will go. His evasiveness will come first - the deliberate attempt to avoid the subject by any means possible. You will persevere in your own stubborn, hotheaded way and he will get angry; irritated. You will hurl accusations at him, ask him _why_, and he will simply snap back some terse excuse. There will be a seething, furious intermission where you will go down to the lake and kick at pebbles until your frustration finally begins to ebb away like a tide, softening momentarily but certain to return.

And then he will come back and look at you in that pleading way, asking why everything can't just stay the way it is, asking why you're picking at this insignificant thing when it doesn't matter - you are best friends, and that is everything. And then you will look at him helplessly, remembering that day you sat together in the dappled shade of a forest clearing, remembering how he was the one who first made your dreams come alive, how he filled you with excitement at the fact that fantasy had suddenly become real. And then you will give in and convince yourself it doesn't matter, even though there is a horrible feeling of foreboding in the pit of your stomach.

"It's just a talk." Your emerald gaze captivates him so that he's forced to look right back. "C'mon, let's sit down." You pull on his arm until you both sit side by side on the nearby bench, the wood slightly damp against your thighs. Somehow the silence is familiar but awkward at the same time - you both know the situation, but still find it uneasy after all this time. He gives you an uncertain smile, but you can't meet the almost desperate look in his eyes. Instead you stare unfocused at a point just over his shoulder, absently gazing at the outer stonework of the castle wall. The wind whips round you both as you take a breath and begin the inevitable, futile routine.

* * *

_Step one you say we need to talk  
He walks you say sit down it's just a talk  
He smiles politely back at you  
You stare politely right on through

* * *

_

The Great Hall is buzzing. Not an excited chatter of voices, but a low drone of mutterings and hushed words. All around you see pale, stricken faces - your friends and classmates gaze down at the table top with frowns etched upon their brows, thinking that they will never be able to understand this world. Some look tearful and lost, others simply withdrawn, and a select few hold anger and sorrow mixed within their eyes, their fists and jaws clenched. For a moment you catch a glimpse of one of these figures, his hazel eyes burning behind his glasses and a restless, defiant aura emanating from him. He stares fixedly down at the newspaper as though trying to desensitise himself to the world beyond the castle walls. 

You follow suit and look at your own copy of the Daily Prophet, bewilderment reflecting in your irises at the image of a glittering skull stirring in mid-air, opening its jaws to let a snake slither out. Your gaze flicks to another moving photograph, this one of a distraught middle-aged woman clutching at the fragile, broken body of a child lying motionless upon the ground. Your skin tingles all over, a rush of horrible cold sweeps through you, and at that moment you look up.

He stands there in the doorway of the Great Hall, dark hair curtaining his face. A fellow Slytherin has sidled up to him with a copy of the newspaper and now mutters something slyly in his ear. A ghost of a smirk crosses the Slytherin's face, but Severus does not smile. His expression is neutral, completely impassive - almost mask-like. You gaze at him simultaneously horrified and transfixed, unable to figure out exactly what emotion you're feeling. You direct a burning stare in his direction but he fails to see you, instead making his way along the Slytherin table at the other side of the room. The distance between you suddenly seems immense - you are in different worlds, as though he stands on the other side of a doorway you could never contemplate going through.

You look back down at the yellowing paper in front of you, at the rush of words that fail to explain the loss, and find yourself wondering if perhaps you should never have realised dreams could come alive.

* * *

_Some sort of window to your right  
As he goes left and you stay right  
Between the lines of fear and blame  
You begin to wonder why you came

* * *

_

"I just don't understand, Sev! I don't understand! How can you do this? How can you - how can you stand up for things like this? How can you do things this evil? I don't - " You break off, your voice choked and a pricking sensation behind your eyes. You feel as though there is one worn thread left connecting you to him, and that it's getting more frayed with every day.

"Lily - " He begins, his tone concerned, and lays a hand upon your shoulder. You jerk away from him, glaring through the blur of tears you refuse to let fall.

"Don't touch me," you snap, and he looks as though something sharp has just pierced him. You know what will happen even before the anger starts to grow in his eyes.

"Look," he explodes, "it's not up to you! You always think you know what's best! You think we're the people with the wrong opinion! What if you're the one who's wrong, Lily? You're not always right!" There is a mad glint in his eye now as he takes a step closer.

You narrow your eyes and look up at him, fury emanating from your gaze. "I do know what's best," you say in a low, dangerous tone. "I know that what you're doing is _evil_. I know that killing innocent people is _wrong_." You glare and then gradually your look softens. "Sev..." you begin gently, "just...just think about it. Please. Admit it's not right."

"You stop accusing me then," he counters, and a brief staring match ensues. There is a long silence as you listen to the seconds tick by, waiting for the moment you know has to come.

"No," you reply, your voice barely more than a whisper. "No. I can't do this anymore, I can't pretend everything's right between us when everything's so wrong. The choices you've made...the things you do, what you believe...it's just all so _wrong_." You swallow the lump in your throat, tilt your chin up and look him right in the eye. "I'm going to say this one more time. Think about what you're doing, Sev. Think about it." And then you turn and walk away, praying that this once your words might reach him.

* * *

_Let him know that you know best  
Cause after all you do know best  
Try to slip past his defense  
Without granting innocence  
Lay down a list of what is wrong  
The things you've told him all along  
And pray to God he hears you  
And pray to God he hears you __

* * *

_

"I - I, you don't understand! They're like my family, Hogwarts is my real home, you just don't understand because you don't know them." He looks wildly at you and suddenly seizes onto something. "It's not like your gang of Gryffindors are perfect, is it, look at Potter - "

"This isn't _about_ Potter," you snap, heat flooding to your cheeks. "Look, even if you have to hang around with those creeps, it doesn't mean you have to believe what they believe - "

"I don't have a choice, Lily - "

"But - "

"JUST DON'T!" he bellows, something snapping. "Just leave it, Lily! Just STOP IT!"

You don't flinch, but instead look at him without pity. When you reply there is no emotion in your voice - you speak so slowly and calmly you almost surprise yourself. "Severus, you have a choice. You always have a choice. I'm giving you one now." You fold your arms defensively across your chest. It's almost an attempt to hold yourself together so you don't reveal how much this is hurting. "You can either carry on going down this road until you lose yourself and do even more terrible things...or you can stop now. Stop this Death Eater stuff, stop it, and do something good in your life for once!" He says nothing, and you carry on talking simply because you don't know what else to do. "At least admit it, Severus, just admit it! All you want to do is go off and join You-Know-Who, and you think everyone like me is scum, just like Mulciber and Avery and all of your pathetic friends. Just say it!" You almost scream the last few words in frustration.

"I - " He falters, confusion in his eyes. "I...Lily, I'm not like them! It's different, I - "

You don't even need to say a word - you cut him off with a look, turn your back, and walk away wishing you were in your other world.

* * *

_As he begins to raise his voice  
You lower yours and grant him one last choice  
Drive until you lose the road  
Or break with the ones you've followed  
He will do one of two things  
He will admit to everything  
Or he'll say he's just not the same  
And you'll begin to wonder why you came

* * *

_

There is no time to think, not even for a second - everything you do is pure instinct, pure survival. There is noise all around and flashes of red and green light, but you hardly register any of it. Your wand blurs as you breathlessly shoot spell after spell, convinced that at any moment a green jet will hit you and you will cease to exist and be forever in darkness. Every moment is just another attempt to evade death, to just stay alive long enough to get through this - just a few more heartbeats, please. The masked figure you're duelling suddenly keels over and you see a familiar figure rushing past after stunning your opponent, elegant dark hair flying, his normally arrogant face filled with the fury of battle. Momentary relief washes over you and you take a split second just to breathe, looking around for more danger.

And then the world slows down, because through the rubble you see a sight that makes your heart stop. A heart wrenchingly familiar messy-haired figure lies sprawled unconscious upon the ground, bleeding from the head with a wand dangling limply in his hand. No one seems to pay him much attention as they sprint past with wands held aloft, but as your wide eyes take in the scene one masked silhouette steps slowly towards James Potter's body. Just like you, he seems to have forgotten that spells are shooting around him, threatening to snuff out his life at any moment. The figure reaches a hand up to pull off the deathly white mask adorning his face, and your breath catches in your throat as you recognise the hooked nose, the hunched stance. Severus Snape's face is twisted with a terrible loathing, and in his eye there is that insane glint you have seen once or twice before. The way he looks down at James reminds you of that fateful day over a year ago, when he glared at his tormentor with the same expression before lashing out at you with that unforgivable word.

Ever so slowly, as though he is savouring the moment, Severus raises his arm and points his wand down at the figure sprawled at his feet.

You suddenly find yourself tearing across the room, all conscious thought gone. Jets of light miss you by inches as you run, deep red hair trailing behind you, your legs taking you faster than you've ever gone before. All the other battles disappear as you skid to a halt in front of that pale, skinny boy you used to know, panting for breath and your green eyes impossibly wide.

He looks at you, shock etched into his face, and for a moment you both simply stand there, the tip of his wand almost touching your chest. Then the wand slowly drifts down towards his side, the depths of his dark eyes gripping your own with a thousand unspoken words.

You vaguely hear a distant shout; you're aware of hooded figures retreating and running for the door. Severus holds your gaze for a further second and then tears his eyes away, his cloak flying as he whips around and runs. When your brain clicks back into gear you turn and kneel beside the motionless figure you've been shielding. Your breath comes out in a gasp of relief as your fingers feel an erratic pulse. Your hand makes it's way to his hair and brushes it tenderly out of his eyes, and then you glance back over your shoulder at the retreating figure almost lost in the pulsing crowd.

And you realise that finally, you've both made your choice.

* * *

_Where did I go wrong, I lost a friend  
Somewhere along in the bitterness  
And I would have stayed up with you all night  
Had I known how to save a life  
How to save a life_

* * *


End file.
